


Let Me In

by Adrenochrome



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternative Universe - Let The Right One In, Blood Drinking, High School, Jongin is ace, M/M, Minor Character Death, Violence, idk why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenochrome/pseuds/Adrenochrome
Summary: Jongin's first friend comes in the form of a mysterious boy who never wears shoes and only comes out at night.





	Let Me In

**Author's Note:**

> Idk why I wrote this... I watched Let The Right One In and I got feels... also apologies if you like Jongdae. This has been cross-posted onto AFF.

Breathing, or not breathing, the sensation was foreign to him. Air would fill his lungs out of habit, but not out of necessity. Stirring from the cold feeling against his skin, he sees nothing but endless miles of white, bleak snow. Undisturbed and thick, though around him there is a viscous and wet blinding contrast of red. Shifting, he can sense that his movement is slower. The time he had been out in this bitingly cold weather had made him stiff.

 

Dawn was approaching, he could feel the itching of the light on his skin. He had to move, or he was going to die there in the cold snow.

 

Running, as fast as his broken body could, as fast as his legs could carry him, he stumbles like a newborn deer, grunting and willing himself to get away from the sun, instincts screaming at him.

 

A house, he sees in the distance, has the light on. He moves in that direction, like a moth drawn to a flame, he seeks shelter.

 

He bangs on the door, as hard as he possibly can, he shouts, unintelligible noises, primal in nature as he mentally begs and prays for someone to open the door.

 

Someone comes, eventually, as the sun starts to peek over the horizon, it’s too close for his liking, he hears them shouting inside, cursing whoever was knocking at such an early time in the morning, but he didn’t care, all he could care about was the burning sensation beginning to creep across his skin.

 

A young man, with neatly parted blonde hair, opens the door with such anger and force, opening his mouth to launch a tirade, but pauses and is visibly shocked by what he’s been greeted with a bloody, torn mess; a husk of a human being.

 

“Invite me in!” a hoarse voice that he hardly recognised as his own, teeth too big and pointed to correctly enunciate.

 

The blonde man spoke, but he couldn’t care less, he growled low, gripping onto the door frame but being careful to not overstep the boundary, not before being invited in.

 

“Please… please let me in.” he felt the need to scream, he’s praying to every god and goddess to exist, he doesn’t want to die like this, not today.

 

“C-Come in.” He splutters, taking a step back.

 

He falls in, slamming the door shut with his feet as he tries to cower away from any light. Like a small scared animal, he corners himself, his body was trying to breathe again, a futile and human response.

 

A wave of relief washed over him as he realised he was protected from the sun until he looks up at the man whose house he was seeking refuge in. Piercing dark eyes, devoid of life and emotion peer up at him from his position, another low growl before he lunges, and the cream walls are sprayed with scarlet red.

  
  
  


Despite the unusually heavy snowfall, the school was still running, much to Jongin’s dismay. He’d fake illness, but his mother didn’t fall for the lies anymore, so he had no choice but to endure the teasing and embarrassment.

 

Jongin was a normal boy, with normal aspirations but he harboured fantasies which weren’t normal, or moral. He dreamed of hurting everyone who had wronged him, everyone who’d laughed at him or poked fun at him, he wished so badly he could make  _ them  _ all suffer in the way he’d suffered. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He’d stick to his books and drawings, letting the feelings consume him but never surface.

 

Insecure and lonely, his time at school was always miserable. He wandered through the snow, wishing so badly that the deep flurries would swallow him whole, and he could disappear forever. But they didn’t, the snow crunched beneath his boots, a satisfying sound that did little to make up for the fact he was still walking, like a prisoner making their way to the execution room.

 

A teacher greeted him as he walked through the school gates, always late. He tried his best to minimise the time he was in the building, trying to reduce the amount of contact he can have with  _ them _ . But he still had to go to homeroom, where they all were. They can do a lot in the five minutes the teacher wasn’t present, over the years they’d perfected their techniques, their venomous words.

 

Taking his seat at the back of the room, and shedding his winter coat and gloves, he sees  _ him _ . Looking, and almost calculating what to do today. Will it be simple name calling? Or a full on beating while his little posse stands guard?

 

Before long, he saunters over, not saying a word, and stands in front of Jongin’s desk, eyeing him up and down, looking at Jongin like he’s nothing but dirt. And quickly, like lightning, he grabs Jongin’s messy hair and slams his face down on the desk. He lets out an audible cry, there was a crack, and a warm sensation as blood begins to trickle down, staining his desk with red droplets.

 

One of  _ them _ , one of his little minions calls out. “Jongdae! The teacher is around the corner!” And like nothing even happened, a smirking Jongdae saunters back to his seat, turning to talk to a girl sat behind him. No one helps, no one even shouts in protest at the act, half of the class was Jongdae’s friend and turned a blind eye, while the other half cowered in fear, not wanting to receive the same type of punishment.

 

The blood continues to fall, and Jongin does nothing to stop it, he wishes he could drown in the same type of red, but not his red, no the red of everyone else. A flashing image crosses his mind, of him, stood at the front of the class, dripping in blood, there is silence in the classroom and no one moves even a centimetre, throats cut open, and blood swimming on the floor. But the image passes, and he suppresses everything. Like always.

 

When he gets home, his mother cradles his face, cooing and trying to dab away the remnants of dried blood staining his upper lip. He tells her he fell, it wasn’t anything serious. But when he retreats back to his room, he throws his bag down with force, hearing a horrible thud from his school books. He doesn’t care for it, he doesn’t care for any of it.

 

He sits alone until he feels like he’s suffocating. The room he has is large but he can’t help but feel like the walls are closing in around him. He dashes out, grabbing at the warmest coat he has before making his way outside back into the cold, hostile weather. To someplace he could feel safe until he had to be dragged back into reality once more. Dusk had fallen while he’d been inside, the sky reminded him of lapis lazuli, with beautiful blue tones, mixed in with the odd splash of orange as the sun retired behind the horizon. Despite the skies above him being dark, the snow illuminated the paths, reflecting the dull golden tones from the streetlights.

 

A park not often played in sat two streets away from his house. A housing estate used to surround it, but it had been knocked down when it was declared derelict. All that remained was a well-loved kids park, complete with chipped metal climbing frames and worn out swing sets. He perched himself upon one, quickly dusting away the snow that remained. It was cold but he was already numb to the feeling.

 

Exhaling, he watched as his breath turned to fog, rising and disappearing. He imagined himself floating away in the same manner, to a nicer place where he was free from responsibilities and strife. But he was grounded to this planet, with a broken body that didn’t even have the strength to fight back.

 

He touched his fingers to his nose, recoiling at the painful throb it caused. He wasn’t sure if it was broken, but it definitely felt bruised. He counted his blessings that his teeth were still intact, not that he showed them much. He never really smiled. He took a deep breath, smelling the clean air even though it made his face hurt.

 

It’d been going on for so long at this point, he didn’t know how much longer he could endure. No one noticed, not even his mother who prided herself on being able to see through Jongin’s white lies. No one really saw how damaged he’d become, not even his teachers. How many times could someone hit themselves with their locker door? No one could be that clumsy. Or maybe they just chose not to believe him, they chose to ignore him.

 

If he carried on this way he wouldn’t survive through high school, no matter how close he was to finishing. College? No chance of going, he’d barely managed to keep his grades steady throughout his years at school, plus his mother already worked two jobs just to support them both since Jongin received no financial aid from his alcoholic father. What was he going to do? He’d probably just end up wasting away in his room.

 

He hears the crunch of the snow, and his thoughts are interrupted. When he looks up, he sees someone has sat down on the swing next to him. It’s a boy, maybe his age, wearing a large oversized winter sweater. The boy doesn’t look at him, so Jongin presumes he’s out here to find solace, much like himself. Though it should really be awkward, it’s not, and there’s a comfortable silence, periodically interrupted by Jongin’s deep breathing.

 

“What happened to your nose?” It startles Jongin, as the other boy speaks with a hoarse voice like he’s sick, or maybe he hasn’t talked in such a long time that the feeling is alien to him.

 

Jongin didn’t really know what to say, so his autopilot takes over. “I fell.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” 

 

Jongin turns to look at the stranger, and he’s greeted with a concerned expression. The boy, so pale, his skin looks brighter than the snow surrounding them, and he looks so still like he’s a stone statue. His eyes though, they move to look at Jongin’s nose injury and Jongin’s eyes.

 

“It doesn’t matter, it usually happens,” Jongin says, he doesn’t know why he’s saying what he’s saying, maybe the stranger will drop the issue if he sees he doesn’t want to talk about it.

 

But he doesn’t, he doesn’t say a word but he can see him from the corner of his eye, observing him. “What are you looking at?” Jongin wished he could say this kind of things to  _ them _ but he was too scared.

 

“You need to fight back. You must fight back.” He replies, his face expressionless but his words are strong.

 

He shifts, eyes moving from the floor up to the stranger, this weird but beautiful stranger who had managed to read Jongin like a book, bypassing all of his lies and seeing the truth inside. This strange boy with unkempt hair and dark eyes.

 

“Who are you?” Jongin asks, and for the first time in a long time, he feels intrigued by something.

 

The stranger didn’t seem to react well to the question. He stood abruptly, only then did Jongin notice the lack of shoes and socks on the stranger's feet. He was about to ask but was interrupted once more.

 

“We can’t be friends.” He says softly, before turning and running away. Jongin didn’t even pay attention to where he was going but he stood also, wanting so desperately to run after him.

 

“What do you mean? Why can’t we be friends?!” he shouts, and it hurts his chest, especially after staying quiet for so long. He feels fixed to the ground, unable to chase him despite wanting to so desperately. He didn’t even realise he was breathing so heavily until it was the only thing he could hear, other than his heart beating at an increased pace, the thudding so powerful he could feel it in his fingertips.

 

“Why can’t you be my friend…” he says, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. He’s alone once again.

  
  
  
  


For two whole days, he couldn’t help but think of him. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why he would say those things, then say that they couldn’t be friends. Jongin felt… lower than he had done for a while. The only person who seemed to see through the facade, the mask he’d spent so long perfecting and wearing, and he’d outright said he didn’t want to be friends. Then he literally ran away. What an asshole.

 

But he still couldn’t stop himself, thinking about this boy, with no shoes in the middle of winter, and deep and troubled eyes. He was more distracted at this point in time than he’d ever been before, doodling about him on all his books, trying to remember more details about him. 

 

Unfortunately, the change in his behaviour didn’t go unnoticed by  _ them. _ During gym class, when they’d been told to do laps of the pool, Sehun, one of Jongdae’s lackeys, pushed his head under the water for so long his chest burned and he swallowed the disgusting chlorinated water. As he surfaced he gasped for breath, coughing and spluttering as the class laughed at him, pointing.

 

He was numb to it all, he told himself if he didn't feel anything, then they hadn’t won. But they were, they were winning and he was losing and nearly drowning. He remembered what the strange boy had said, to fight back, but there was no fight left in him and there hadn’t been for a long time.

 

He returned home, making more excuses for the increased number of scratches and marks, it was from the equipment he said. His mother believed him. 

 

Underneath Jongin’s rickety desk, he kept a small, padlocked box, similar to the one's market stall runners would have. Locked inside was the only item that gave Jongin a sense of inner strength, a feeling of being able to defend himself. Unlocking his box, he moves the random scraps of paper to reveal a sheathed knife.

 

It wasn’t anything fancy, just a hunting knife that he’d stolen from his dad before he left for good. It was probably better that it was in his hands instead of his father's, his dad was a loose cannon when he’d been on the booze. He hadn’t even realised it was gone, shows how conscious he was. He unsheathed the knife, the scratched up metal needed to be sharpened, but he hadn’t had the chance. 

 

The knife is cool to the touch, but fits perfectly in his right hand, he admires it as the curved tip glints like a star in the sky. He sits gently, next to his desk, pushing the worn out wood slightly with his feet to reveal the flat side. Where the once smooth, varnished wood once was, a scratched up piece sat. Completely covered in tally marks, words and just stabs and scratches of frustration, where Jongin had spent his nights venting his bottled up feelings, the victim being his stupid desk.

 

Sometimes, on the days when the beatings had been particularly bad, he would imagine that the desk was  _ them _ . He’d imagine plunging the blunt knife into their chest, twisting it. He imagined as vividly as he possibly could the sounds they’d make. Would they beg? Would the apologise? Try to stop him? Their attempts would be fruitless. 

 

Unconsciously he’d struck the wood harder than he ever had before, embedding the knife into the wood by at least an inch. He sighs, pulling it back out, sheathing it and locking it away, just like he did with all the feelings, all the desires.

 

His mother had gone out, Jongin wasn’t sure where but he didn’t really care to know. The fact that she’d gone out meant he could actually play the music he liked for once. He liked rock music, heavy music, he liked the anger and the emotion that came out through the lyrics, it was his own way of venting his feelings.

 

Laying flat on his bed, he laptop played something from his playlist. Thunderous bass and guttural vocals, lyrics full to the brim with description and feeling. He closed his eyes, in his imagination, somewhere in an alternate universe, he was the powerful singer, screaming the lyrics to all those that had wronged him. He visualised himself trashing his room, stabbing the walls, ripping the fabrics and screaming til his lungs would give. But he didn’t do any of it, no, he didn’t even move an inch.

 

He thought of the boy again. He wanted to know his name, where he had come from. He wondered what music he listened to, maybe he liked the heavy music too. He wanted to see him again, just to ask for his name, maybe to ask him how he knew he was lying.

 

On a whim, Jongin decided to go back to the park. The chances of that boy being there were slim but he didn’t care. The snow hadn’t cleared, and the forecast was for even more. The below freezing temperatures made Jongin’s fingertips tingle as he seats himself on the swing. It was empty, which Jongin expected since it was starting to go dark already.

 

He passed some time playing about on his phone, but nothing would grab his attention. Before long it was pitch black out, street lights flickering in the distance, illuminating the wasteland left behind from the housing estate, in all its ugly glory. He sighed, hearing some woodland creatures scuffle next to the shrubbery.

 

Jongin turned to watch, seeing their eyes reflect the light as they scurried to their burrows. He wished he could do that, just hibernate for the winter. He watched the creatures ran off, listened to the squeaks they made. Maybe it was a little family? Jongin didn’t know.

 

When he turned to face forward, something looked different, he saw two sets of footprints on the fresh snow, following them he sees him, sat calmly on the swing next to him. The boy had come back.

 

He looked even messier than before, greasy hair which stood up at awkward angles, his skin looked shiny with oil, and he was wearing the exact same oversized jumper. Just like last time, he wore no shoes or socks, as Jongin glanced at his feet, he saw the boy's toes twitch.

 

Jongin couldn’t help himself. “Where are your shoes?” 

 

The boy looked at his feet, then off to the distance. “I don’t need them.”

 

He didn’t really know how to respond to that. How anyone could wander around through thick, freezing snow without shoes was beyond him. The comfortable silence returned, Jongin didn’t mind. This was the most interaction he’d had with someone who hadn’t had bad intentions in a very long time. 

 

The boy, he peered at Jongin, he looked him up and down. Dark, beady eyes, void of emotion, but full of secrets. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel. 

 

“You didn’t fight back.”

 

He felt guilty, in a way. Like he’d disappointed this stranger. This boy who’d seen the truth.

 

“I couldn’t, he held me under the water,” Jongin said, pushing straggled pieces of hair away from his face.

 

“Why do they do it?” The boy tilted his head, like a little puppy, but Jongin didn’t get any of the cute vibes he’d get from a puppy, no he found it slightly predatory.

 

But he answered. “I don’t know... because I’m quiet, I guess.”

 

“Quiet,” the boy repeats. 

 

“They make fun of me because my dad is an alcoholic too.” He says, but he feels the need to curl up and protect himself, he wants to stop spilling his feelings, he needs to suppress.

 

“You need to fight back, you can’t let them hurt you like this.” The boy’s voice is strong, he’s clearly quite passionate about the topic. Maybe he was being bullied too, or maybe he was from a broken home, living on the poverty line. Jongin wasn’t sure.

 

He knew the stranger was right, he knew in his heart that he was near breaking point. If he didn’t fight back would his feelings come to the surface? Would he end up living out his fantasies? Would the walls start closing in on him, would he just lose all feeling? He didn’t know, but he had a hunch.

 

“I’ll try, but only if you tell me your name.” He says.

 

The stranger, this boy, smiled. “You promise you’ll try?” 

 

Jongin replied yes, how he was going to do it he wasn’t sure. “I am Kyungsoo.” 

 

Kyungsoo. Fitting. “I’m Jongin.” He says, thrusting his hand out for the other to take. But instead of getting a handshake, the only thing Kyungsoo gave him was a funny look.

 

It was too awkward, so he put his hand back down. “Why can’t we be friends, Kyungsoo?” 

 

The boy stills. “Because I do bad things.”

 

Jongin scoffs. “So do I, Kyungsoo. It’s no big deal.”

 

He tilts his head again. “What bad things do you do?” 

 

Jongin goes to answer but feels the words get stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to say the truth, he was scared of the reaction. “It doesn’t matter, I just think we should be friends regardless.”

 

He waited for a reaction that didn’t come. “Okay. Friend.” He says once more, but he does not smile. Jongin didn’t mind.

 

For the first time in a very, very long time, Jongin gave a genuine smile.

  
  
  
  


And so it continued, their daily, well, nightly meetings in the park. After school, Jongin would not stare at his knife and mull over his own thoughts, but he would talk to Kyungsoo. Well, it was more that he would talk at Kyungsoo, as Jongin quickly learned that he was a boy of few words.

 

But that was the only thing that had changed. The daily taunting, the constant reminders or his own insecurities, the lack of help. It was like snow in winter, guaranteed. 

 

Though his nose had healed, he’d returned home with another injury, this time a black eye. He had punched him right in the face because he’d refused to move from his desk. Jongin took it as a small victory, he’d never actually refused to do something that he had said, he’d never resisted before. Though he did, he paid the price for it. 

 

His mother was not home to coo at him this time, she’d recently taken on night shifts to make extra money. It didn’t make a difference to him, he didn’t really talk to her much, not anymore at least. So he laid, he listened to his music, he snacked on leftovers. It was peaceful for him. He didn’t realise how much better he felt today. Even though he’d been socked in the eye.

 

After darkness fell, he made his way to the park. This time he brought a present for Kyungsoo, but he wasn’t sure how the other was going to react. Duffle bag in hand he sat in his swing seat, waiting for his friend to come.

 

“Jongin.” At the start, this would have startled Jongin, but he soon got used to Kyungsoo’s very quiet appearances. He smiled at him, trying to give off a warm vibe to him.

 

“Kyungsoo, I brought you something.” He hands the duffle bag to him, his reaction is one of confusion.

 

“For me?” He asks, Jongin nods.

 

He pulls open the duffle bag, in a surprisingly gentle manner, and reveals a pair of sneakers. He looks up at Jongin once again, eyes shining. 

 

“They might not fit, but I hated seeing you without shoes, especially with the snow, y’know?” he felt nervous, but he knew it was for no reason.

 

He put them on, and of course, they were too big. Kyungsoo was actually quite a small boy, Jongin wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but he looked his age. He seemed gentle, his movements were soft and thoughtful, he couldn’t be any older than sixteen. 

 

“I’ll give you something in return,” Kyungsoo says, and Jongin sees him smile, though it’s not a sweet smile. It’s a mischievous one.

 

“Oh, what will you give me?” He says, a little nervous laugh at the end.

 

“I’ll tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to tell.” suddenly, Jongin saw him as a devil, trying to take his innocence, with the way he spoke and the expression he wore. Kyungsoo’s pale hand was held out, pinkie finger up.

 

Jongin linked his pinkie with Kyungsoo’s, only to be reminded of how cold the other boy was. Kyungsoo’s nails were a bit longer than normal, and dirty, but Jongin didn’t care. He just liked the contact. “I promise.”

 

Kyungsoo stepped up from his seat, the movement like oil he was so smooth and refined, it was slightly unnatural. He leaned closer to Jongin, the closest he’d ever been, and Jongin was met with an overwhelming smell, it was something he recognised but couldn’t put a name to. He saw the finer details of Kyungsoo’s face now, his skin like marble, blemish-free apart from the dark circles under his eyes. Ice cold hands cupped his ear, as he leaned in to whisper to Jongin, he was about to speak, when something struck Jongin straight in the face, catching him off guard.

 

It was a snowball.

 

Kyungsoo recoiled, turning to face the direction it came from, a shocked expression on his face. Jongin wiped the remnants of snow away from his face, before squinting to see where it came from.

 

“Jongin…” Kyungsoo breathed out, and before he knew it, the boy and taken a hold of his hand, cold but a firm grip.

 

From the distance, Jongin could see three figures, which he knew all too well to be  _ them _ . They laughed and they joked, and the grip on his hand got tighter.

 

They stood only a few steps away, and he was wearing a smug grin. Jongin couldn’t understand why they were here, he was sure that they didn’t even live around here. Had they come this far just to taunt him? To beat him down even more?

 

“Who’s this, Jongin? Some other freak from the estate?” Jongdae spoke, words like venom. Sehun and Luhan nudged each other, watching on like vultures waiting to pick at the dead.

 

“Or is he your boyfriend? You two looked a bit too close for comfort just now.” He continued, folding his arms. He didn’t need to, to Jongin he already looked big enough to step on him.

 

He didn’t answer. Kyungsoo looked at him, before looking back at  _ them _ . “It’s them… isn’t it?” He asks, so softly and so quietly that only Jongin can hear him. He nods once.

 

Jongdae laughed, but Jongin didn’t look at him, he looked at Kyungsoo, the boy was still holding his hand, but his expression was like something he’d never seen before. He looked angry, predatory, unhinged.

 

_ ‘You have to fight back. You must fight back.’ _

 

_ ‘You need to fight back. You can’t let them hurt you like this.' _

 

A fire was building in his chest, a hot, dangerous feeling, a rush of adrenaline. He pulls his hand away from Kyungsoo, stepping forward. “It’s none of your business, leave me alone.”

 

Instead of a shocked expression, his sudden burst of confidence is met with more laughter. Jongin seethes, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “He speaks!” Jongdae says, like a comedian, he eats up the applause and the laughter.

 

“Leave!” He shouts, like a petulant child, god he can’t even stand the sight of them, he didn’t want to be embarrassed like this in front of Kyungsoo, his only friend. Would he leave him if he saw how weak he really was?

 

“No, I don’t want to.” he sing-songs, stepping even closer to Jongin, dangerously close. They’re mere centimetres apart from each other, Jongin can feel Jongdae’s hot breath on his face.

 

And just like that, he snaps.

 

A headbutt, with such force it makes his neck ache, but it achieves what he wants. Jongdae cries out, falling backwards and he clutches his nose like a child. Jongin remembers when he’d done this after he’d had his head slammed to the desk, he feels it, the satisfaction. 

 

Unfortunately, every action has a reaction. He endured the beating from Sehun and Luhan, kicks to the face and chest, the sensation of pain down his spine as Luhan delivers a particularly strong kick to his back. He doesn’t cry out, he doesn’t make a noise, he just waits and wills himself not to cry, he prays that they’ll stop before he’s dead.

 

In the end, they leave, carefully helping Jongdae to his feet, cooing and whispering encouraging words to him as they leave the scene of the crime.

 

Jongin lays on the ground as it begins to snow, Kyungsoo comes to his side, like an angel, face illuminated by the moonlight. He gently touches Jongin’s face, stroking his cold fingers across his cheek. The sensation was welcome, especially with how cold Kyungsoo’s hands were.

 

“I fought back ‘soo. I did it.” He barely says, chest wheezing.

 

“You did, Jongin, you did so well.” as he smiles, Jongin feels like it was all worth it, just to be able to say he fought back.

  
  
  
  


He doesn’t go back to the park, not for a good few days. His mother, believing his story of being jumped, doesn’t want to let him out of her sight. He doesn’t blame her for it, he looked like shit.

 

He lays in bed, managing to convince her to let him have a day off. He aches, he’s bruised but at least he’s not broken anything. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he sees the anger, the pure rage from them. He feels the hits and kicks all over again, like a phantom pain. But for every mark, every cut to his body, all of the pain was worth it just to headbutt Jongdae.

 

Mind wandering, he thinks of Kyungsoo. The other boy hadn’t got involved in the fight, and Jongin certainly didn’t blame him. They were completely outnumbered, three to two. Plus although Kyungsoo was a little bit intimidating, and he certainly had a strong grip, Jongin wasn’t so sure that he’d do very well in a fight. He was lucky that none of them had tried to go for him, he would hate to think that he’d brought his problems on the other boy, he didn’t deserve to be hit for Jongin’s insolence. 

 

He’d just been grateful that Kyungsoo had helped him up, he sincerely hoped that Kyungsoo didn’t think of him as an embarrassment. 

 

He spent the rest of his day watching youtube videos, however instead of the normal heavy metal music videos, he listened to rain and thunder recordings, soft piano music, because for once he didn’t feel like a storm was raging inside of him, instead, he felt like calm ocean waves.

  
  
  
  


Hungry, so unbelievably hungry. His stomach ached, his body weakened and his mind cloudy with thoughts of only one thing.

 

The inhuman side of himself had started to take over, he could no longer even tolerate being above ground during the daylight hours. He burrowed, somewhere deep in the basement of the house, he found comfort in the dirt, cool to the touch, it provided total protection from the sunlight. When dusk would approach, he would emerge, clawing his way through the mud and gasping for air, something which had become a habit at this point.

 

His nights in this house were spent pacing, trying to clear unclean thoughts, he didn’t want to do the bad thing again, he’d been so weak after being attacked he had no choice. The poor man whose house he’d been a prisoner in, he begged and screamed and scratched at Kyungsoo, who wept as he kneels down to the empty body that had been left behind. He’d made such a mess, he cleaned furiously as he cried to himself, not once looking back at the man.

 

He didn’t want to do it again, but if he didn’t then he would have to stay below ground for even longer periods of time than he had to. He didn’t want that. He wanted to see his Jongin, his friend. He needed to do the bad things again.

 

In the deep of the night, he snuck out. Past midnight hours the only people on the streets we’re a particular kind. He hid away in an alleyway next to a convenience store and pulled the first person to walk past into the darkness.

 

She didn’t fight back, Kyungsoo assumed it was because of shock, but once the blood touched his tongue he could taste the alcohol and its disgusting metabolites. His body hated it, but he punished himself by drinking his fill. He wasn’t going to do any more bad things tonight, this would have to do regardless.

 

After a few minutes of slow drinking, he felt her very weak pulse completely stop. The blood no longer gushed, but it trickled slowly to his mouth, and down his throat. When he’d had enough, he pushed her away, kicking her face to the side so he didn’t have to see what she looked like. He didn’t need to remember any more faces.

 

A primal grumble, akin to a growl, broke free from his chest, as he felt the warm blood around his lips turn icy cold. Instantly rejuvenated, he ran. Initially, he was going to go straight back to the house in the distance where he could hide away from everyone, but he just had one stop first.

 

Two streets away from the park, inside the housing estate, sat his Jongin’s house. He’d watched him before, but only briefly. He supported his broken, human body as he limped home. Kyungsoo watched from beyond the bushes, as his mother rushed to help him as soon as he got through the door, her poor son so beaten and broken. But this time, however, he just wanted to see his friend. He’d missed him.

 

He stood under a streetlight, across the road from his house. Jongin’s room was upstairs, but the window was facing the front. Kyungsoo’s eyes worked so well in the dark, he could see everything. He could see the butterfly stitches to Jongin’s forehead, he could see the split in his lip. His lips. They looked so soft. 

 

He was watching something, on a computer, there was one very similar in the house in the distance where he hid, but he didn’t know how to use it. There was movement on the screen, and very faintly he could hear the sounds of melodic music. If only his hearing had worked well the night before, then maybe Jongin wouldn’t have got hurt. He felt guilty, for not helping his friend. But he didn’t want the boy to see the beast he really was.

 

“Friend. I am… sorry.” He says, so softly, but there’s no one around to hear him.

  
  
  
  


It seemed almost impossible before, but Jongin’s spell of bad luck was far from over, so of course the beatings, the jibes got worse.

 

He couldn’t go anywhere without hearing at least one derogatory word, but to make matters worse it wasn’t just from  _ them _ . No, everyone else was joining in now. He tried his best to ignore them, every word was meaningless to him, but he couldn’t help but feel his eyes water when he sees “gay boy” etched into the paint of his blue locker. He slams the door with force, before making his way to his class.

 

His attention wasn’t focused on the lesson being taught, but instead on planning ways to try defend himself. He’d had enough of this treatment, he’d had enough of being made to feel worthless. If his teachers were not going to do anything, then he’d take matters into his own hands. Like Kyungsoo said, he couldn’t let them treat him this way. He hurt inside, the flashing images of grotesque fantasies we’re becoming more frequent as the day passed along.

 

He left school, but instead of making a beeline for home, he took a different route. Walking to his village centre, he reached the small but busy gym. Slamming down all the money he had in his wallet, he stared at the lady behind the reception desk. Jongin could see her eyes flitting from his black eye to the sticky gauze holding his split forehead together. “How long can I come here if I give you all of this?”

 

The woman snapped out of her staring, looking very confused as he slowly counted up the bills, before giving him a small smile. “We offer a monthly rate of thirty thousand, but for an extra five-thousand you can get personal training lessons?”

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

And just like that, his plans started falling into place. Jongdae may be the same size as him, but Jongin could get bigger. He could fight back, no, he would fight back. He’d make them hurt for everything they’d done, he’d go further than that, he’d make sure they never talked to him or even looked in his direction ever again.

 

He’d been saving lunch money up for months, he never once went into the dining hall, far too scared to get a beating so public that the whole school saw. He didn’t even know how much he had, but he at least knew that he would be the laughing stock no more. Kyungsoo’s words drifted through his mind once more, each time they did he felt a piece of himself heal.

  
  
  
  


The days and nights carried on as normal, Jongin found himself falling into a routine, something which he wasn’t really used to. He went to the gym, tried to stuff his face full of carbs and protein, before going to meet Kyungsoo at dusk. It had been a very long time since he’d had that drive to get up and go about his normal day, but he’d eventually got it back.

 

It was then, of course, when he started to feel like Kyungsoo wasn’t normal in any way, shape or form.

 

He knew, obviously, that Kyungsoo wasn’t your standard person, they met in an abandoned park in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of winter for god sake. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. But odd things were starting to be noticed, like how he’d never seen him during the daytime, and that he was the same age as Jongin and not in a school. He noticed that he would wear the same sets of clothes over and over, and he rarely cared about his appearance. His fingernails were always full of dirt, and he never once ate, not even when Jongin offered him chocolate and other treats.

 

Prying was never his intention, but he couldn’t help but feel like the boy he knew wasn’t the real deal. He wanted to ask outright, but when they've broached the subject of family or the past, Kyungsoo had a very negative reaction, usually making excuses and leaving early. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings, Kyungsoo was his only true friend, one that actually spent time with him and seemed interested in the things he had to say. To lose him would be catastrophic. He wouldn’t entertain the idea.

 

His mind often wandered back to that first night when they’d met, he thought about how strange this random boy seemed, to be wandering around in freezing temperatures with no shoes. How mysterious he was, to see through Jongin’s lies like they were nothing. To stand by him, despite his mental and physical weaknesses. It was odd. Kyungsoo was an obscure boy.

 

“Jongin… are you okay?” When Jongin came to, he saw Kyungsoo staring at him, with a mildly concerned expression.

 

“It’s nothing.” He mutters, shaking his head a bit, a bid to clear his mind.

 

“You are lying…” Kyungsoo says softly.

 

And Jongin just couldn’t understand it. “How do you know? Like, how do you know when I’m lying. It’s kind of strange you know?”

 

He didn’t even blink in response, but he did lick his lips slightly. Jongin ignored the weird feeling he got from it. “It’s a secret.”

 

“Friends tell each other secrets, Kyungsoo. Why can’t you tell me?” Jongin knew it was a bit manipulative to say that, the impression he got from the other boy is that he’d never really had a friend before, so he would believe anything Jongin said.

 

He tilted his head to the side, something which Jongin had started to interpret as deep thought. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else. It’ll be our secret.”

 

Jongin could feel his heart thud in his chest, hard enough that it could burst. Finally, he’d know what was going on with this mysterious boy. He leaned forward, and Kyungsoo stepped forward like he had done that day Jongin was beaten up by  _ them _ . Fingers cool to the touch gentle touched Jongin’s cheek, and Jongin could feel a shiver run down his spine. 

 

His fingers traced along Jongin’s jawline, down his neck before settling right on his chest. He couldn’t describe the feeling that was raging inside him, but it was strong almost like Kyungsoo’s touch had lit a fire inside him. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

 

Jongin looked at the other, they made eye contact. This was the closest they’d been to each other, and Jongin was seeing details he’d never noticed before. Like how Kyungsoo’s eyes were rich in colour, something akin to a golden brown, even in the awful lighting of the park. He felt like he was seeing him in another light, and he’d suddenly found clarity.

 

“Kyungsoo…” He started, but could not finish. The question he wanted to ask sounded too stupid, so he wasn’t going to risk it.

 

“Jongin… do you believe in monsters?” he’s so quiet that Jongin could barely hear him, he swallows and nods in reply.

 

“I am… not a human, not anymore.” He starts.

 

Jongin doesn’t know if he’s dreaming, he feels like he stopped breathing, he can hear his heart beating violently in his chest. Suddenly, everything around them seemed to disappear, like he had tunnel vision, and the only thing he could see was Kyungsoo, the cold boy who didn’t seem to ever breathe.

 

“I have many names. Strigoi, upir, kappa, drakul… but you would know me by one name, it’s the most popular one.”

 

He raised his hand, his movement so smooth that Jongin didn’t flinch. His hands, dirtied with mud, gently pushed Jongin’s overgrown hair to the side, before trailing down his cheek, but they didn’t break eye contact, not even for a second.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t even blink as he finishes. “Vampire.” and Jongin feels his breath hitch, and his eyes go wide.

 

He couldn’t tell if he was going crazy, or if Kyungsoo had really just said what he thought he did. But the circumstances, all the weird things, even if the explanation was ridiculous, Jongin couldn’t help but believe it. Why would Kyungsoo lie? He wouldn’t, not to him.

 

“A-Are you sure?” Jongin blurted out, voice breaking a bit.

 

Kyungsoo tilted his head again, looking at him puzzled. “I think I’d know.”

 

There was a silence between them which seemed to go on for minutes, Kyungsoo was now kneeling in front of him, looking like some kind of pet, seeking approval from their owner. Jongin mulled things over in his head, puzzle pieces slotting into place. For a minute or so he felt overwhelmed by the information, but now he felt… content. Because he didn’t care, Kyungsoo was his friend regardless, nothing could stop that.

 

“Are you afraid of me?” Kyungsoo asks, looking up at Jongin with glassy eyes.

 

Jongin shook his head. “No, never! You’re my best friend… my only friend. I could never be scared of you.” 

 

“I’m sorry…” 

 

Jongin took Kyungsoo’s hands into his own, startling him. “Kyungsoo, don’t apologise. I like you the way you are. I don’t want you to ever change. Besides… my best friend is a vampire… do you know how cool that is?”

 

The gesture made Kyungsoo smile, and that was all Jongin needed to know that things were going to be okay.

  
  
  
  


As expected, Kyungsoo’s revelation brought a lot of questions to Jongin’s mind. Could he go out in the sunlight? Did he eat human food? Was he immortal? Where did he sleep or did he even sleep at all? It was a lot. He’d been compiling everything in his mind to ask him the next time he saw him, which he had been looking forward to for the whole time he was at school, but his good mood was swiftly interrupted while he was in his last class of the day.

 

One of the staff who worked in the office had come to the room, urgently whispering something to the teacher, before they shared a look of worry. She darted off, probably to the next room, and their teacher collected their attention. 

 

“The local police have informed us that we must not dismiss you at the end of the day, as there has been an incident close to the school grounds. Do not panic, we’ll be informing your parents.”

 

But of course, they panicked. What on earth had happened? People in the class started to whisper, and this time Jongin didn’t feel like the odd one out. He was wondering too.

 

He wished he hadn’t.

 

Just outside the school grounds, there was a lake. It was a natural one which had been widened by the council. During the summer it was a popular fishing spot, but during the winter it froze over, thick ice and snow shrouding it from everyone’s view. As it was becoming slightly warmer, the ice was beginning to thaw, bringing something to the surface.

 

More, someone to the surface.

 

When he got home, his mother held him tight. She’d been crying, her usually well-done mascara was blotchy and smudged. The local newsreel was playing in the background, showing footage of a taped off crime scene, with various police officers bumbling around. Jongin wasn’t necessarily shocked, but he felt uncomfortable. His mother was upset, later on, when they’d finally been able to leave the school grounds through a police escort, it had been revealed that it was Junmyeon, and that was why his mother was upset.

 

Junmyeon was the literal definition of a good Samaritan. The reason his mother knew him so well if because he was a volunteer for a soup kitchen which both he and his mother had utilised on a handful of occasions when things got really bad. He had a warm smile and a kind heart. Now he was sitting in the morgue of the closest hospital.

 

A police announcement was broadcast through the news, that no one should speculate how he had died until they had made some progress with their investigation. They’d been interviewing some of his friends who were visibly upset and perplexed as to how this had happened. They’d said he’d not been into lectures and classes for a while, but that he occasionally did that to visit his family who lived very far away. They didn’t suspect anything like this to happen.

 

Of course, because his mother was not in the best way, he didn’t go out to the park that night. He didn’t really want to worry her even more. But he felt guilty, especially after the revelations that had happened the previous night. He was craving to know more.

 

She was supposed to be going on a night shift, but she didn’t know whether she was ready to go or not. Jongin heard her on the phone, he stood in his doorway, listening closely as she chatted to one of her friends. He closed his door leaning on the back and staring out at the dark streets outside his window. Sighing, he slid down, wrapping his arms around his knees. He didn’t realise how much he depended on Kyungsoo’s company now. Being alone felt even more lonely than before.

 

A tapping on the window made him jump and yelp. He stood slowly, at the corner of his window he saw those eyes. He’d never moved so fast opening his window up as wide as he possibly could. “H-how did you get up here?” He asked, looking down.

 

Kyungsoo stared blankly at him. “I climbed. You need to invite me in.”

 

“Why do I need to invite you in? What happens if I don’t?”

 

“I’ll start bleeding from my eyes.”

 

“Okay, best to avoid that, please come in.”

 

In the new light, Jongin felt like he was meeting someone completely different. Kyungsoo was paler than he first thought, and though he initially thought his eyes were a dark brown very similar to his own, they were actually more of a golden colour, strikingly gorgeous. 

 

“Your room… it smells nice.” He mutters, before sitting down on Jongin’s bed.

 

“Thanks, I guess?” Jongin looks at the other. 

 

“You’re welcome.” 

 

He watches the other, as he slowly inspects every part of Jongin’s room from the bed. Jongin spend that time watching Kyungsoo instead, seeing that his face was slightly dirty with little streaks of mud. When he looked down, he saw that the other boy was wearing Jongin’s old sneakers.

 

“How did you know to come here?” Jongin asked, instead of replying, Kyungsoo simply tapped his fingers to Jongin’s chest, right where his heart sat in his ribcage.

 

“Oh… that’s pretty cool.” 

 

“I can hear your heartbeat… so I always know how you feel.”

 

“Can you hear my thoughts?” Jongin asks, shuffling, a little uncomfortable with the idea of someone being able to listen in on his dark desires.

 

“No, and I can’t turn into a bat either before you ask.”

 

“So what can you do?”

 

Kyungsoo gazed at Jongin, doing his typical head tilt. “Well… I do not age. I cannot go out in the sunlight, as I would burn. I have to drink blood to survive. I’m stronger, faster and I have better hearing than a human could have.” 

 

“How old are you? Because you look about sixteen to me.”

 

“Old. It’s been centuries, I have lost count. But this… happened to me when I was seventeen years old.”

 

Jongin was shocked. “How did it happen to you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“I was attacked.” 

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Jongin felt something icy touch his fingers, he looked down to see Kyungsoo had allowed his fingertips to touch Jongin’s as their hands lay on the bed. He didn’t mind the contact, but now he was super conscious of how Kyungsoo could know everything he was feeling. He felt himself blush.

 

Kyungsoo looks at him, then to the floor. “I might have to go away for a few days.” 

 

To this, Jongin couldn’t control his reaction. “What? Why?”

 

“I did bad things…” 

 

And suddenly, some things started to make sense. Like how Kyungsoo’s arrival coincided with recent events. “Did you...”

 

Kyungsoo didn’t reply, he didn’t need to because Jongin already knew the answer. He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat that wasn’t there before. Kyungsoo’s mysterious aura shrouded something much darker.

 

“I knew him. He babysat me once when I was a little kid. My mom had to travel out of town to divorce court.” 

 

“I’m sorry, but if I didn’t I would have died. I was injured… I’m not sure how.” Kyungsoo looked so sad, Jongin just wanted to pretend nothing ever happened.

 

“Don’t say sorry. You can’t change the past.” He muttered, taking a hold of Kyungsoo’s hand.

 

They sat there in silence for a short amount of time, Jongin could feel Kyungsoo’s cold thumb rub gently against his own, in a bid to comfort him. He must be able to tell that he’s feeling a bit shocked.

Eventually, they laid down on Jongin's bed, although it wasn’t a big bed it was big enough for the both of them. Their hands hadn’t unlinked since, Kyungsoo told him some stories, of things in the past, of history and war, revolution and tragedy. Jongin listened intently, feeling like he was learning more about history than he ever could in class. He spoke of legends and mythology, and of other creatures that existed. For hours, and hours they talked, completely comfortable, with all the problems they faced forgotten, just for one night.

 

Jongin wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke to his school alarm at seven AM. He was still dressed in his uniform from the previous day, feeling groggy and unclean. But when he remembered that Kyungsoo had spent the whole night with him, he felt something in his chest. As he prepared himself for school he noticed a note on his desk, in very, very messy handwriting.

 

_ “I had to leave before daylight, I will return to you tomorrow. - Your Kyungsoo.” _

 

He kept the note in his blazer pocket, thinking about it periodically throughout his time in school.

  
  
  
  


After Junmyeon’s funeral, the whole town seemed to carry on living as if nothing had even happened. The investigation reached a dead end, and they ruled his death an accident, claiming he fell into the lake not realising that the ice was beginning to thaw out. But Jongin knew the truth, even though he didn’t want to.

 

Though his days were usually boring, his nights were when he truly felt happy. Of course, they hadn’t relented their persistent attacks, he was hit in the face with a hockey stick during gym class, cutting into his cheek and causing it to bruise an ugly dark purple colour. He didn’t retaliate, mainly because the teacher was right there and witnessed the whole thing, but also partly because he was biding his time. Waiting until he knew he could do some serious damage.

 

His mother told him he was reckless but still tended to it like she did with all his other injuries. A sports accident he said, she believed it.

 

The past few nights he’d taken to reading to Kyungsoo or the other had watched as he worked on homework. Kyungsoo had told him that he wasn’t very good at reading, so Jongin was trying to help him. Tonight though, Kyungsoo was very touchy. He was not happy with what had happened to Jongin, and though he appeared to be calm on the surface, Jongin could tell that a storm raged inside.

 

As with their nightly routine, they laid on Jongin’s bed, while Jongin was talking to him about music, and a new album which had come out that he liked, he felt Kyungsoo’s touch once more, this time against his injured cheek, as soft as ever. “How could anyone hurt you…” He whispers.

 

Jongin blinked slowly. “Everyone gets hurt, ‘soo.”

 

“You get hurt most often. I hate it.” He’d never heard Kyungsoo speak with such emotion before, it made him feel like he was breaking down his walls, feeling that maybe the boy could be himself.

 

“One day I’ll get rid of them, make it so they can’t touch me again.” The images flash again, the grotesque murder scene in his classroom. He blinks and they disappear again.

 

“Do you want to kill them?” Kyungsoo asks outright.

 

Jongin didn’t have to think before he responded. “Yes.”

 

“Do you think about doing it often?”

 

“Every hour. Every day.”

 

Kyungsoo’s hand moved away from his face, before sliding back into Jongin’s where it had previously been, their fingers laced together. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Jongin could see deep into Kyungsoo’s eyes, almost as if he was peering into his soul.

 

“We’re not so different, you and I.” He says, Jongin’s heart skips a beat.

 

“I guess not.” 

 

“One day… I’ll make sure they never hurt anyone ever again.” and Jongin believed him.

  
  
  
  


When Jongin found out that Kyungsoo had been sleeping buried in the corner of the local cemetery, he wasn’t happy. Kyungsoo had explained to him about his extreme aversion to sunlight when he hadn’t fed, but he hated thinking of him all alone in there. So somehow, he dedicated a whole corner of his room to a very large trunk which used to be his father's. It was thick and heavy, perfect a little vampire to sleep in.

 

Every night, before Kyungsoo got into his makeshift bed, he would always wake Jongin, slowly stroking his hair out of his eyes, before bidding him goodnight. Jongin’s mornings suddenly didn’t feel so bad, even though he was waking up at pre-dawn hours. Which, now the seasons were changing, meant the days were getting longer, and the nights which he spent with his Kyungsoo, shorter. Although it made him sad, it made him appreciate the time he was with him even more.

 

It wasn’t until he was in the gym, trying to lift weights when he realised that his friendship with Kyungsoo wasn’t exactly just a friendship anymore. Were they something more? They touched frequently because Kyungsoo liked to have the contact, and Jongin didn’t mind at all, in fact, he welcomed it. The way they talked to each other, their mannerisms, it was all characteristic of a loving relationship. Something which Jongin hadn’t even experienced before, he’d never even had a crush on anyone before. To him, Kyungsoo felt like the best person he’d ever met, someone who made him feel normal in a sea of strangers.

 

But he wasn’t … sexually attracted to him, no. It was more a need to have him there by his side, as an emotional companion, someone he could talk to when he needed. It was conflicting, all the movies and TV shows he saw portrayed relationships in a highly sexual manner, and that just wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted someone to sleep next to, someone to hold his hand, to listen to music with, and sometimes maybe kiss.

 

He kind of wanted to kiss, but not desperately.

 

Was this just Jongin craving friendship? Or was he getting emotionally attached? He wasn’t sure. It was a lot to be dealing with on top of everything else he was experiencing. But he couldn’t help but feel like his train of thought was always going straight to thoughts of Kyungsoo, hoping he was okay in his room. Hoping that maybe if he was asleep, he was dreaming of something nice. He didn’t even know if vampires could dream, but it was the thought that counts.

 

Taking a break, he guzzled half the water in his bottle, he was hot and sweating like he’d run a marathon, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop but he had to carry on. He was starting to feel an improvement in his general health, but he wasn’t seeing results as of yet. He didn’t mind waiting though, he’d train till he finished his high school years just to knock him on his ass.

 

The door to the changing rooms clicked and in walked… one of  _ them _ . The tall, lanky one who’d nearly broken his rib cage all those weeks ago. Sehun. He avoided eye contact, turning his back to him and pretending he didn’t exist. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself laid next to Kyungsoo, imagining his voice whispering to him that he’s strong, and he can do whatever he puts his mind to. A burning desire in the top of his chest, a flame of defiance, the feeling of not wanting to disappoint. 

 

As determined as ever, he fought through the horrible cramping pains in his legs, thinking only of the end goal. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sehun, out of all of the possible machines to use, decided to pick the one directly next to Jongin. It only made him more vexed, more angry, more focussed, as he pushed himself further to the limit. Imagining Kyungsoo’s voice even louder in his head.

 

“Hey, I didn’t know you came here.” And Jongin instantly hated that he’d spoken, because that snapped him out of his rhythm. He looked behind him to see if Sehun was talking to someone else, but no, it was just him in this section.

 

“Are you talking to me?” He said, trying to muster up as much of a nasty tone as he could, it clearly wasn’t nasty enough.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, I do.” He prayed Sehun would just shut up, get back to running like he was before but he still didn’t.

 

He actually stopped his treadmill, wiping away sweat from his forehead before stepping off and hovering around Jongin, who was too anxious to even move. He wouldn’t try anything in such a public place, would he?

 

“Hey… I just wanted to say I’m sorry about… what happened at the park. It was too much.” Sehun said, awkwardly playing with the hem of his shirt.

 

Jongin stared at him, a blank expression.

 

“No hard feelings?” He said sticking his hand out, sweaty and horrible, Jongin couldn’t think of anything worse.

 

But he shakes his hand, nodding to him once. “No hard feelings.” It’s a lie, perhaps one of the biggest he’d told.

  
  
  
  


That night Jongin tries to take Kyungsoo on a ‘date’, but not really. He takes him far out of the town, where no street lights remained, and no one dares live. As they walk, their hands are linked, and there is a comfortable silence.

 

They lay down on the mossy ground, the snow had melted days ago, relaxing and watching the stars. Even without heightened senses, Jongin could see the bright spots in the sky, a sea of diamonds in a deep blue space. Kyungsoo told him whenever he would see a shooting star, like a child gushing about something magical. 

 

They chatted with each other about what shapes they could see, and soon, Kyungsoo was close to his side, hand resting on Jongin’s chest right above his heart. “Kyungsoo?”

 

“Yes?” he does not stir, but Jongin nearly shivers as the cool breath hits his neck.

 

“Do you like me?”

 

“Of course I do, you’re my friend.” and Jongin swears he hears him laugh a bit.

 

“How much do you like me?”

 

“Jongin, do you see all the stars tonight?”

 

“Of course I do, what’s that got to do with it?”

 

“I like you more than all the stars in the night sky.”

 

Jongin slipped his hand over Kyungsoo’s, holding it tight.

 

“Do you like me enough to be with me forever?’

 

‘’Yes.”

 

“Then, stay with me, by my side until the end of time.”

 

Though it was unspoken, Jongin could feel the bond between the two of them grow even stronger. He dozed off, completely comfortable, with his cold, beautiful Kyungsoo.

  
  
  
  


It was already past dusk, but Jongin was still at the gym. Kyungsoo was… uncomfortable. Despite Jongin’s attempts to keep him close, by making him a makeshift place to stay, he was not sleeping. Highly irritable, extremely hungry and drained. He needed to go and feed tonight, or he wasn’t going to get chance for a long time. He couldn’t deny the temptation that came with being in such close proximity to Jongin for such extended periods of time, but the rational, more human side to himself always kept him in check. He wouldn’t dare hurt his Jongin.

 

Now that the weather was starting to improve, he found that more people were staying out later and later. While on the surface this would be perfect for him, but more humans out on the streets didn’t just mean more to pick from, but more that could catch him. At least Jongin had been helping him reconnect with humanity, even if it just meant washing his hair every now and then and wearing shoes. In a way he was helping him feel normal, feel human.

 

There was a youth club at the church on the other side of town, he’d been waiting for someone to emerge from the church, but no one had come. He was getting desperate, feeling like a child about to throw a tantrum, as he grinds his teeth and his grip on the wood of the fence gets tighter, feeling it crunch beneath his fingers.

 

After some amount of time, no adults emerge, but a large flock of kids do. He watches, with an innocent curiosity, as boys and girls of all ages walk out, some with their parents. It takes a moment for the smell to hit him, but when he does, he feels the grip on his vampire side begins to slip. Enthralled by the noise, enticed by the scent, he moves to step before, but before he can move out from the darkness, he smells a familiar, surprising smell.

 

From the back of the crowd, he sees three young boys, ones who he hated more than anything in the world. He knew of their names, but he did his best to block them out. A name ties someone’s personality to their earthly body. Names meant attachment. He wasn’t about to get attached to those three, he had plans for them.

 

They laughed and joked, the tall one even jokingly punching the blonde, as the shorter one laughed, an obnoxious and loud noise. They didn’t deserve to laugh, they deserved to be at the bottom of the ocean. A low and guttural growl, he heard the wood of the fence snap in his grip. 

 

Every fibre of his being wanted to torture them, he’d learnt a lot through his years on maximising pain, minimising blood spillage. He’d done a lot of bad things. He saw himself, emerging from a swimming pool of blood, relishing in the sensation, imagining watching the light die behind their eyes. He didn’t always enjoy killing, but when he thought about killing all three of them he practically moaned.

 

He knew what he would do, but he wouldn’t do it alone. He’d want his Jongin to be there.

 

His kill that night was pleasant, he even made a mess. The thrum of life rejuvenated him. The man was enough to satisfy him, but he wanted to do so much more.

  
  
  
  


Jongin returned home with another injury, this one probably being the worst of all. During science class he has placed a pair of forceps over the bunsen burner, heating them until they glowed red. As Jongin was writing his observations down, he felt a searing pain across his forearm, watching as Jongdae pressed the burning hot metal to his skin. He couldn’t help but scream.

 

He returned home late, his mother having to collect him from the emergency department of the hospital out of town. His arm was covered with thick strips of bandage, and his eyes were red and swollen. Kyungsoo had been nervously waiting for him in his room, and he gasped at the sight before him.

 

Jongin cried himself to sleep, clutching his arm, wrapped in Kyungsoo’s embrace. Guilt was beginning to eat at him, he couldn’t even keep his Jongin safe, something needed to be done.

  
  
  
  


The knife in Jongin’s safe stayed in his school bag for the rest of the semester.

  
  
  
  


When spring break hit, Jongin couldn’t be more relieved. Not only could he spend more time with Kyungsoo, but he didn’t have to deal with  _ them _ anymore. After the burn incident, Jongdae had been suspended for a week, but Jongin still didn’t feel safe. The whole thing had really messed with his mental strength, and he found himself starting to have nightmares. Thankfully, Kyungsoo was always there when he woke up.

 

It was a Tuesday night, he’d just showered, Kyungsoo was sat on his bed practising his reading with a copy of ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’, a book that Jongin had to do a review of over the summer. He watched from the doorway for a moment, as Kyungsoo furrowed his eyebrows in deep concentration, mouthing out the words he read.

 

He was about to join him, but Kyungsoo stopped reading, eyes flicking to Jongin. He hummed.

 

Jongin didn’t quite know what that meant. “What do you mean ‘hmmm’?” 

 

“You’re getting big.” He says, before going back to his reading.

 

Jongin stood in front of his full-length mirror, pinching at his skin and twisting to get a good angle. “Do you think?”

 

“Your shoulders are, at the very least. Very broad.” Kyungsoo didn’t spare him a look this time, too engrossed in his reading.

 

Jongin couldn’t help but blush, he’s not put his nightshirt on yet, just pants. He guessed Kyungsoo was right, he wouldn’t really be able to notice the change in himself until it was more obvious, but he trusted Kyungsoo’s judgement.

 

“I guess the gym is finally starting to pay off.” Grabbing moisturiser, he lotions up but stops at his forearm. Kyungsoo notices, as the other boy gingerly touches at the scarred skin, an unhappy look on his face.

 

“I finished the chapter.” He says, louder than normal in a bid to get Jongin’s attention. It works.

 

“Oh! Well done, I told you that you could do it.” He smiles, joining him on the bed with a sigh.

 

They sit on the edge of the bed, Kyungsoo placed the book down on Jongin’s desk so gently, it always surprised him. Turning to face Jongin, he leans in to sniff at his neck, a habit he’d developed. “I really like that smell. Please keep wearing it.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

He probably should have been concerned when Kyungsoo nuzzled into his neck like a cat, but the other really liked physical contact so it almost felt normal. “You always smell so good.” He whispers before the two lay back onto the bed. The vampire loved to spend some time each night just clinging to Jongin’s side, smelling him, putting his head on his chest, touching Jongin’s cheekbones. Almost like he was studying him.

 

They ended up in a familiar position, Jongin enjoyed the cool feeling coming from Kyungsoo, especially now that the nights weren’t as cold as they were before. Sometimes when they laid like this, Jongin would watch how still Kyungsoo would be, finding it almost enchanting how he could be as motionless as a marble statue.

 

“Jongin…” Kyungsoo says, against his skin.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

That made Jongin feel weird. Weird feeling in his chest. He swallowed, turning to look at Kyungsoo. “Yes.”

 

When their lips met, Jongin felt himself blush. Kyungsoo’s lips were cold, which he expected, but he didn’t expect them to be soft. It was quick, like lightning, a peck that lasted no more than three seconds.

 

Kyungsoo pulled back, returning to his previous position, face pressed into Jongin’s neck, inhaling his scent. Jongin felt his face burning as he tried his best to hide his smile. 

 

“Thank you.” Kyungsoo mutters, adjusting his position.

 

“Kyungsoo… are we boyfriends?” Jongin asks, his voice breaking just a little bit at the end, he tried to keep his composure but his thoughts were muddled.

 

The vampire hummed. “Yes.”

 

“Okay,” Jongin whispered, pulling Kyungsoo just a little bit closer. One of the vampires' hands moved from his chest down to where Jongin’s arm was resting on his stomach. His cool fingers gentle moved down his forearm until Jongin turned it over to reveal the ugly, marred skin, two stripes from the forceps. The sensation didn’t feel as bad as he first thought it would, his breath hitched when Kyungsoo touched his cold fingertips to it. 

 

“Jongin… I’ll protect you until the day I die. I promise.” and once again, Jongin believed him.

  
  
  
  


Gym time quickly became more of a habit than a necessity. He found himself being able to lift more, being able to endure more, and overall feeling stronger. This morning he’d gone swimming, enjoying being in the water a lot more than he ever had before. When he reached the end of the lane, he came up, standing to see… Sehun.

 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Sehun says, giving Jongin a small smile. He doesn’t return it.

 

“It’s good.”

 

Maybe Sehun was an idiot because he never seemed to pick up on Jongin’s clearly hostile vibes. “Good, I just thought you’d like to know that they’re doing a boxing class tonight, a one-off. Might be good for you.” 

 

He mulled it over in his head, before looking back at Sehun. “Sure, see you then.” 

 

Going back to his laps, he couldn’t help but think about boxing Sehun. Maybe he could hit  _ him _ harder than what he did. Maybe he could break something.

  
  
  
  


Before he’d left, he wrote a small letter for Kyungsoo, just so he wouldn’t worry when he woke up alone. He’d not really left Kyungsoo to wake up alone since the burning incident, but he couldn’t exactly help that time. He’d told him where he was going, just in case he needed him, but he doubted he would.

 

The walk to the gym was cold, for some reason they were having a cold snap, despite it being well into spring. He’d brought his winter coat, which, for some reason brought him some positive memories, ones of them both in the park where they met. Before he started calling him boyfriend. He smiled to himself, thinking about how much certain things had improved in the last few months. He felt like maybe other stuff would start to improve in line with everything else. Or at least he hoped.

 

The gym looked closed, but the front doors were open, Jongin walked in with caution, looking around to try and find the light. Down the corridor where the weights and mats were, he saw a white light, so he assumed the trainer was waiting in there.

 

He walked in to find the room empty, which made him feel a tinge of worry. He was the only person there, that he could see at least. Calling out, he got no response. Until he heard the doors which he came through slam shut. Jumping, he turned quickly to see Sehun stood there.

 

“Where’s the trainer?” he asks, though he wishes more than anything his voice was steady, it wasn’t, it was painfully obvious that he felt uncomfortable.

 

Sehun, face blank, no longer smiling. He holds the doors behind him shut. “He’s not coming.”

 

Jongin felt the panic begin to spread in his body. 

 

From the looks of it, no one else was there. But he wasn’t sure. Coming here was a mistake, he’d fallen into a trap. He backed up a bit from Sehun, who was just as expressionless as he was before, like all those times he’d helped Jongdae beat the shit out of him. He felt the burn on his wrist itch like crazy, the memories linked to it making him feel sick. 

 

The knife, which he’d kept in his bag since was within reach. But was he really about to stab someone in the local town gym? No. Sehun couldn’t do enough damage on his own, even if he was physically bigger than him. Glancing around once more, he tried to find a way to escape, but this room had no windows and only one door. The one being blocked by Sehun.

 

“What’s going on?” he calls out, trying to urge himself to appear more intimidating. He didn’t want to be the scared little boy who was picked on by the bullies of the class. He wasn’t going to let  _ them _ do it again, he wasn’t going to let  _ them _ hurt him anymore. He clenched his fists, feeling them get damp and sticky. The silence was eery, but he could feel his heartbeat all the way in the tips of his fingers, the only thing interrupting the standoff.

 

A banging on the door broke the silence, Sehun stood to the side and opened the door. He positioned himself to run, but he couldn’t, as two figures walked into the room. Jongdae and Luhan, the latter having a baseball bat in his hand. Once they’d entered, the door was quickly shut again, and Jongin couldn’t help but feel like a trapped animal.

 

Jongdae had a disgusting smirk on his face, one with made Jongin feel enraged. The images came back, but only a short flash, blood pouring from walls, sounding like rain as droplets fell onto the laminate surface. He blinked and he was back.

 

All of them were dressed in sports clothes, like the ones they had to use in gym, and they all looked ready for a fight. “Did you think you were going to escape unhurt for getting me suspended?” Jongdae asked, a rhetorical question.

 

Stomping his foot, he made Jongin jump. Of course, they all started to laugh. “What were you even trying to accomplish by coming to the gym? Did little Jongin think he was going to get buff and beat up his relentless bullies?” Sehun and Luhan laughed at each other as they stood behind Jongdae, like the dogs they were.

 

He gave no reply, partially because he felt like if he opened his mouth to speak, only a scream would come out. Grinding his teeth, he glared at them, wishing more than anything that they would just die on the spot. Darkness was coming, he just prayed Kyungsoo would come to find him, at least then he wouldn’t be left, broken and bruised on the floor.

 

“It was stupid of you, really, to come to this gym. The one that Sehun’s father just so happens to own. Because now there’s no one here to watch what we’re going to do to you.” moving forward, Jongin compensates by taking steps back.

 

Now all three of  _ them _ were here, he was sure he was in trouble.

 

As quiet and as discreetly as he could, he moved his hand to his backpack, feeling the sheathed knife brush past his fingertips. Luhan raised his baseball bat, ready to strike.

 

“Shame your boyfriend isn’t here... it would have been fun for him to watch you get beat up a second time.” and he smiled, showing his teeth with his cat-like smile.

 

When he thought of Kyungsoo, he couldn’t help but lose control.

 

Lunging forward, he tried to hit Jongdae straight in the face but missed by a fraction. Luhan took his opportunity to try hit him with his bat, but Jongin ducked, coming very close to getting hit right in the head. Angry, he discarded the bat to the side with a clink. 

Panic had begun to set in, but so had the adrenaline, he threw his bag on the floor, but his knife remained in his back pocket, he would use it if he had to. The three of them tried to tackle him, but once again he managed to headbutt Jongdae in the face. Instead of crying like the time before, he let the blood flow freely, too focused on trying to bring Jongin some pain.

 

The feelings of rage, fear, disappointment, isolation bubbled to the surface, he could practically feel the anger running through his veins. He took a hit to the face hard enough to break skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of determination. He wiped the blood away before tackling Jongdae to the ground, who was sufficiently surprised and let out a pained cry as he fell to the ground.

 

Sehun and Luhan pulled him off before he could manage any serious damage, but he wasn’t in their grasp for long. As hard as he could, he stomped his foot right on Luhan’s own, earning another cry. Sehun couldn’t maintain his grasp on the other, so Jongin pulled himself free, taking his time to pull his knife free from the sheath, holding it flat against his palm.

 

As Jongdae tried to grab hold of him, he lashed out, leaving a thin cut on his cheek, drawing only a small amount of blood. Jongdae was shocked for one second, then seething. At this point it seemed the adrenaline had run out, he took another punch right to the face, courtesy of Sehun, the shock of the hit made him drop the knife in his hands. Luhan grabbed him from behind, pulling him by his hair making Jongin cry out.

 

They’d restrained him again, both Sehun and Luhan having a firm grasp on his arms and shoulders. The panicked feeling returned, as he realised he was tiring. The dull, throbbing pain from the punches started to make itself known, his chest burned from pushing himself hard.

 

Jongdae was practically animalistic, he’d never seen him this consumed by anger before. The normally suave and collected class bully was no longer calm, but he himself was releasing all the pent-up anger he must have been holding. Jongin didn’t know what from, but it didn’t matter to him, he was about to get hurt worse than ever before.

 

They had him in an armlock tight enough to strain all his muscles, Luhan had grabbed his hair again, exposing his neck. He was expecting a hit to the face, but he didn’t expect to have one swift punch to the stomach.

 

It felt different though, Luhan released his grip on his hair and Jongin looked down just as Jongdae stepped back from him, bloodied hands revealing his father’s hunting knife, embedded right in the middle. When he looked back up he could see the red mist in front of Jongdae’s eyes disappear, as the boy realised just what he’d done.

 

Sehun gasped, releasing Jongin just before Luhan did. Jongin couldn’t even keep himself stood on his own two feet, as he felt his knees give, and he falls backwards against Luhan’s legs.

 

“J-Jongdae… what have you done…” Luhan stutters, he moves back, as Jongin falls down fully to the floor. 

 

He groans, he really doesn’t feel good. The feeling of having a foreign body embedded in his abdominal cavity was not something he’d expected to experience. Though he was trying hard to breathe deep, he wasn’t getting the benefit. He didn’t know what they’d managed to hit, but if the pain was anything to go by it wasn’t good.

 

Raising bloody hands to his head, Jongdae watched as Jongin’s white shirt started to stain red. “I…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t form a sentence.

 

He wished he could see Jongdae’s expression fully, he’d have rather enjoyed relishing in the feeling of seeing him so scared. But he couldn’t see, he didn’t know why but he was seeing double, his chest feeling like it was being crushed. The damp feeling of his own blood was uncomfortable, to say the least, but he tried his best to move, even if it was just an inch. Groaning, he felt the knife move inside him, cutting in deeper.

 

“What do we do?” Sehun says, and Jongin doesn’t have to see him to know he’s panicking inside.

 

“We have to call an ambulance…” Luhan replied, the smallest hint of fear in his voice.

 

“No! If we call an ambulance we’re all going to get arrested.” Jongdae says firm.

 

Jongin closes his eyes momentarily, thinking of anything to keep him grounded. If he slowed down his heart rate, he wouldn’t bleed out as fast. Slowly, he touched his fingers to it, then looked. Though he had envisioned blood in his fantasies, he could never have predicted that it would be his own.

 

“We need to pull the knife out, it’s the only evidence there is.” 

 

When he hears the words, he lets out a pained noise. Jongdae might not have noticed but Jongin knew well that the knife had a curved tip, specifically to do extra damage. If he pulled it out, there was no chance he would survive. Looming over him like some fucked up version of the grim reaper, Jongdae stared down right into his eyes. How anyone could do what he did and carry on like nothing had happened, blank face and all, was beyond Jongin. Maybe Jongdae was just as messed up as he was inside. Maybe they were more like each other than Jongin had anticipated.

 

He also hadn’t anticipated the horrific, borderline torturous feeling as he slowly pulled out the knife. He couldn’t suppress the scream this time. The blood was flowing out fast now, he tried his best to press down on the wound with his hands but it was futile, the warm red flowed between his fingers, down to the ground where it pooled.

 

He didn’t know what happened after, there was silence. He assumed they’d ran. He couldn’t help but think of his Kyungsoo, he thought how if their roles were reversed, he’d never be able to recover from the loss. Kyungsoo’s words echoed in his head once more, begging him to fight back but this time he couldn’t keep his promise. Drowsiness washed over him in waves.

 

A loud crack disturbed him from his peaceful images of the stars, and a harsh pressure against the wound brought him back from his dreams. His angel, his Kyungsoo.

 

“Jongin… no, please look at me please.” He begs, the pressure increases, but so does the drowsiness.

 

The ground feels softer, and his eyes close. Suddenly they’re in the woods again, star gazing. Beautiful sapphire sky under a blanket of white. He can feel Kyungsoo against his side, resting like they always did. The silence of the forest around them was peaceful, and despite the freezing temperatures, he felt warm. He liked the feeling, as he pushed the painful thoughts to the furthest corner of his mind.

 

Though he could hear Kyungsoo’s voice, his lips weren’t moving. “Forgive me...Jongin…” 

 

He closed his eyes, the warmth and the silence far too enticing.

  
  
  
  


Searing hot temperatures, blinding headaches, a scream which went on for an eternity, the constant feeling of falling. As a child, he often had nightmares about monsters which hid under his bed, and now those very same demons were pulling him under as the screams turned to white noise.

  
  
  
  


Kim Jongin was missing. 

 

The school had had assemblies about it once a week for the past month, the boy had gone missing from his home in the social housing area of the town, a relatively short distance away from the school. Police were questioning random students, but of course, the boy wasn’t very social. None of them dares mention his treatment, and the trails go cold.

 

As students walked through the school corridors, they would be greeted by his missing poster. A photo of him with a forced smile, probably for his passport, was centre of the page. Various phone numbers and contact centre names were listed below. Rumours spread around the school that he’d run away, unable to endure the torment any longer. Of course, they were all rumours. Only three boys at the school knew the real truth.

 

Jongdae, Sehun and Luhan had been unusually quiet for the past few weeks. Though Jongin had always been their main target, they still had other kids which they would occasionally pick on when they were feeling particularly inclined too. But fortunately, they’d not had to deal with anything. Some of them thought the guilt from Jongin potentially running away had shocked it out of them. They were wrong of course, in reality, it was much worse.

 

As they walked home that evening, the sun was beginning to set. They returned to Luhan’s house as it was the closest to the school, as Jongdae and Sehun weren't feeling the walk home alone to their own houses. Paranoia was beginning to eat away at the three of them, an unrelenting string of nightmares had left them feeling dishevelled and more on edge than ever before.

 

In the safety of Luhan’s room, they talked openly.

 

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” He says, openly breaking down in front of both Sehun and Jongdae. The show of weakness earned him a smack from Jongdae.

 

“Pull yourself together! If one of us cracks, we’ll all be found out.” 

 

“No, you’d be found out! It was you who killed him!” Luhan shouted, a nasty bite to his tone.

 

Jongdae didn’t have a chance to reply, not that he knew what to say. It’s not like he could easily forget what he’d done, every night the scene replayed in his head, over and over even as he attempted to sleep.

 

Night had fallen, Luhan’s mother had made them dinner but none of them had the appetite. They’d remained in Luhan’s room, quietly trying to distract themselves. However, they were soon interrupted by the sound of pebbles hitting his bedroom window. When they looked out to see where it was coming from, they saw nothing. Luhan, feeling his paranoia get worse, made the decision to go outside to investigate.

 

What he found was a small, neatly folded note. When he unfolded it and read it out loud, Jongdae and Sehun felt their blood run cold.

 

“I know what you all did, come to the park on the estate or I’ll tell them everything.” 

 

“What do we do?” Sehun whispered.

 

“We have to go,” Jongdae says, quieter than normal.

 

The park was empty, not that that was unusual, Jongin was usually the only person who would ever go there. Thinking of Jongin would always make Luhan feel like he was going to throw up. It was very cold for a spring night, but what was particularly unusual was the lack of insect noises, it was eerily quiet, which made Luhan’s heart race.

 

Every single noise from the surrounding bushes would make them all jump, and Jongdae was embarrassed to be so scared. His embarrassment was turning into frustration, as he turned around and looked into the distance to try to see anyone, but nothing was there. The three of them were alone in the park.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” Sehun says, he can’t help but feel like someone is watching him.

 

A rustling noise comes from one of the bushes, all of them turned to look, Luhan practically whimpering as he did so, they huddled closer together.

 

“Boo.” 

 

Luhan jumped as far away as he possibly could, screaming as he did so, Sehun practically fell over as he scrambled to get behind Luhan and Jongdae, like the coward he really was. They were greeted by the boy who’d been plaguing their nightmares for weeks.

“J-Jongin?” and he laughed because he’d never in his whole life heard Jongdae stutter like that. The expressions they all wore were priceless.

 

He no longer stood in front of  _ them _ as a scared, marginalised boy, but instead as someone who had power running through him, embedded into his DNA. He watched as Jongdae surveyed him, noticing a fair few changes. Jongin’s eyes no longer gave him away as a damaged, lonely boy, no, it was his turn now to look down on Jongdae with predatory eyes.

 

A growl from the bushes distracted them for a moment, they glanced for a second only to look back at Jongin who was inches away from them. He was smiling, Jongdae had never seen him smile. “I thought you…” 

 

“Died? I did.” He tilted his head to the side as he gazed into Jongdae’s eyes.

 

“...But…”

 

“I wasn’t finished with you.” 

 

A tight grip around his neck shocked Jongdae, but his feet leaving the ground shocked him even more. Jongin’s hand were cold, the hold was strong as Jongdae helplessly scratched at Jongin’s hand as he gasped for air.

 

“I’m going to give you a taste of what it feels like.” As he spoke, Jongdae noticed a flash of sharpened teeth, but he didn’t see much for long, as Jongin dropped him to the floor like he was nothing.

 

He choked, grasping at his throat as he coughed. Glancing behind he could see both Luhan and Sehun debating whether or not to run. He wasn’t worried about that. Jongdae was focussed on him, a pained look on his face. Jongin towered over him this time, like some kind of benevolent god. He heard a thud and a scream, and when Jongdae turned to look he saw both Luhan and Sehun’s shoes as they were both dragged into the bushes.

 

There was more growling, a piercing scream which he recognised as Luhan’s, a voice shouting which he recognised as Sehun’s. Then the silence returned.

 

He bends down, crouching in front of Jongdae, he saw the boy begin to cry. “It’s just me and you now. Anything you want to say?” 

 

Some unintelligible noises, Jongdae was openly sobbing as he tried to shuffle away from Jongin, but he hit something. When he turned to see what it was, all he saw were bare feet, covered in mud and leaves, following the legs up he saw the boy Jongin had been with the time they’d beaten him. Jongdae whimpered, as the stranger gave a toothy smile, he too had the sharp, large teeth smeared with red.

 

“W-what are you?” He cried out, trying to back away even further, it was useless.

 

He gave no reply, only smiling again. Jongdae’s last memory was of sharp teeth and claws. He felt himself slip away slowly, but a swift kick to the head put him out of his misery.

 

Red stained hands linked, bloodied and wet lips connected. Both of them walked out of the park for the last time, hand in hand.

 

Jongin had finally been set free.

  
  
  
  



End file.
